Scrawl Week 2
by emo-geek-87
Summary: Week 2 of daily drabbles from the lj community scrawlcalibur. Puck/Kurt SLASH


I- Lead

_An Ass Out of You And Me_

They all assume thing that aren't true. Kurt isn't the one that revels in romantic gestures. Puck isn't the one that plans elaborate dates that leave them kissing under the stars. Kurt isn't the one that needs the comforting hand placed on the small of his back. Puck isn't the one that guards against the monsters of thunderstorms and bad dreams. Kurt isn't the one that curls in a warm chest and finds solace in the complete surrender. Puck is never the big spoon.

So yeah, Puck lets everyone believe that he's the one that holds the door open and that Kurt's the one that has to hide his blush when he hears he's beautiful. Kurt lets everyone think that he's the igirl/i the relationship. Despite the fact that _girl_ has never even entered into their relationship.

Sometime they assume some things that are half right. They are two boys in love. They slip into each other with an ease that has never made sense. One of them blushes under his lover's heated gaze. One of them loves the feeling of a slender hand playing along the small of his back. One of them holds the other when the fears become too much. They slow dance in the darkened basement as the music chases everything else away. They are two boys in love. The only thing everyone else has backwards is that when they dance, Puck lets Kurt lead.

II- Hold

_One Kiss and Fifty Years_

The pause is heavy between them. Hangs low and heats the air. The hand on his chest burns his skin and he tries to remember how to breathe. He's never had one before but he doesn't think that first kisses are supposed to leave you shaking like this. He doesn't think that the first boy you kiss is the one that you are supposed to kiss for the rest of your life. The tingle on his lips and the surprised glint in Puck's eyes tell him that he isn't alone. This wasn't the kind of kiss that you can chalk up to youthful curiosity. It's the kind you tell your children about. The kind that your best friend teases you about describing in the best man toast. The kind that fifty years of marriage are built on. The reality of it drapes itself over their skin like a cloak. Covering them with something neither of them even knew they wanted. He wants to say every word that bubbles up but his lips hold the words in his mouth. When Puck leans forward for a second time, Kurt thinks that Puck wants the words just as much as he wanted to say them.

III- Burn

_Sparks_

Puck had always been fascinated with fire. The red amber sparks that would land on his skin the few times his family had actually gone camping. Back when they were a family. The crackle that would ease him to sleep like a lullaby despite his dad's drunken ramblings, his mom's exasperated sighs and the rocks that poked him through his sleeping bag. The smoke that would cling desperately to his skin and his clothes. The musk that he would wear past the point of comfort and would mourn its slick slide down the drain after his ma would make him take a shower. After his dad leaves, he doesn't ever get to see campfires. He runs his index finger over the open flame of his lighter every now and then, just to remember what it felt like, to remember what that kind of warmth feels like.

It isn't until his senior year that Finn finally organizes the camping trip that he always said he would. Everyone from glee club is huddled around the fire and it's Puck's chance to show off a bit. Campfire sing-a-longs eat at the night and soon he's left alone by the slowly dying fire.

He hears everything. The soft whimpers of pleasure coming from almost every tent. The night owls that are playing in the tops of the trees. The light, careful footsteps that approach from behind. The warm hand that rests between his shoulder blades before it slides down to curl around his waist. Kurt's firm chest pressed against his back is what he's been craving all night. Kurt kisses under his jaw before sliding to sit beside him. Watching the fire with Kurt is sharing something special and Puck finally understands what intimacy feels like. Puck falls asleep with Kurt crammed next to him in the sleeping bag. Kurt's soft snores mix with the _snap, crackle, pop _of the fire and his warm breath burns hotter than any of the flying sparks.

The next morning he wakes up with the smell of Kurt and smoke on his skin. His back is riddled with the small indentations of pebbles that spent the night burrowing into his skin. Kurt's making turkey bacon and eggs by a fresh fire. His face lights up when Puck slides his arms around his waist and rest his chin on his shoulder. Kurt wrinkles his nose at the smell on both of them but kisses him anyway.

Behind them, Puck can hear the surprised gasps and cheers of their friends but it's hard for him to pay attention to any of that. All he knows is the heat of Kurt's mouth, his intoxicating smell and the press of Kurt's sharp angles. When he's with Kurt, he doesn't miss fire anymore.

IV- Shadow

_Secret Identity_

Noah Puckerman had known of Kurt Hummel since he was six years old. With his bow ties and khaki pants, sitting outside of the sandbox because no one wanted to play with him. Icy smiles that formed suddenly after the beginning of seventh grade and the defiant slant of his shoulders that had started after tenth. Kurt Hummel was someone he was well aware of. The kind of person that always seemed to be in his peripheral vision and would make his skin prickle for his touch when they were in the same room. But he didn't really get to know Kurt until halfway through junior year.

It started with Karofsky slamming Kurt into the lockers and sending his books flying. Kurt was obviously trying to keep it hidden. Trying to keep it a secret but his frantic scrambling hands didn't do much to disguise it. Between the 900 page fall fashion issue of _Vogue_ and his calculus book was a cover that Puck was very familiar with. Kurt Hummel had a well-worn copy of _The Shadow 1941: Hitler's Astrologer_. After that, Puck started to pay more attention.

He saw the way that Kurt often secretly drew during classes. Before, Puck had always thought that he was creating his own Spring collection but some stealth ninjaing told him different. Kurt would spend almost the entire class drawing Kent Allard bending Margot Lane back in a 1950's movies style kiss or _The Shadow_ facing down _The Silent Seven_ or _Shiwan Khan_. He couldn't miss the fact that Kurt drew _The Shadow_ to look like Puck or the way Margot Lane's sharp features almost mirrored Kurt's. That night he dreams of them solving crimes together and kissing under streetlamps.

Kurt is looking for a Film Noir Hero. A second crashing Karofsky push into the lockers gives him one in Noah Puckerman.

V- Avoid

_Looks_

The first time Kurt sees Puck look at him like that he glances behind him to see if Santana is shaking her ass behind him. All he sees is the empty hallway and the way Puck avoids his gaze when he turns around.

The second time is right after the other jocks catch him outside after class. His hair is disheveled and his shirt is rumpled, riding up his stomach as they all lift him up. Puck comes out of nowhere and chases them away. Puck's wide thumb grazes the exposed skin before Kurt can pull the cotton down. Puck doesn't look at him for two days.

The third time his eyes are rimmed red from crying and the tissues have turned the tip of his nose a painful pink color. Finn was bringing him soup and fussing like a mother hen while Puck's eyes watched him from the bottom of the stairs. The awkward hunch of his shoulders tell Kurt that he knows that today marked the tenth year that he'd spent without his mother's arms around him. The way Puck's fingers grasped at his own forearms made Kurt wonder if he'd spent the last ten years feeling the same way.

The fourth time is the kind of situation that is usually reserved for completely unoriginal rom-coms. The _accidental _walk in while the person you have a crush on is changing. Keeping it tasteful and walking in right away to see them shirtless. Kurt feels kind of like a girl with his t-shirt held up against his sternum but it seemed to be the only way to keep his modesty. The look burned brighter than it ever had before. This time Puck looked away first. The next day they acted like nothing happened but Puck did strip his shirt off in math class with no other explanation than he was _paying it forward_. Kurt did his best to look without looking like he was looking. But he knew he didn't have to worry about missing anything because he could hear Mercedes taking pictures next to him.

It takes a fifth time before Kurt is brave enough to return the look. Heat flows through him and they lock eyes until Santana clears her throat loudly and tells them to get a room. Kurt blushes wildly and turns his head away. He doesn't really hear Puck say that they're going to do just that or the catcalls that follow them out the door. All he knows is the rough feeling out Puck hand against his own.

By the fiftieth time they have learned the planes of each others bodies and trade love through their skin. The look Kurt sees after the first time Puck says _I love you_, is the look they will trade for fifty years.

They live in the moments where a look can mean more than words and the years they never have to worry about itching their own forearms when they crave hugs.

VI- Yearn

_Poor Boys In Love_

Puck was never the guy that the would delay his own pleasure. His indulgence never knew any bounds. A poor boy learns early that you have to take what you want because no one is ever going to hand it to you. He would take fistfuls of other people's lunches and hide it in his pockets. He would drown himself in booze and drugs because sometimes that was the only thing that didn't hurt. He lost himself in lust for people he never really wanted and only craved them because they belonged to other men. His skin would reek of them. Perfume and cigarette smoke. Foundation and sticky lip gloss. He would fall asleep with dreams of the life he wanted and by the time the sun rose he'd spent the last four hours convincing himself that those weren't the kind of dreams boys like him were supposed to have.

Puck was learning the pleasure of delayed gratification. He lost himself in the soft slide of Kurt's skin against his wrist when they passed each other in the hall. The soft snores that covered his chest as Kurt slept. The unbelievable feeling of wanting, of yearning for all the right reasons. The way Kurt's eyelashes would flutter against his neck when they would hug goodbye. Kurt's scent would cling to everything Puck owned. A delicate mix of musk, soap and lotion.

Puck realized that waiting wasn't just about making sure Kurt was ready. The waiting was for the moments he could appreciate the little things that he loved about Kurt. It was about giving him enough time to collect the memories that would make him okay with drowning in them.

Waiting was something Puck was still getting used to. Every day it got a little bit easier because Puck let himself take pleasure in brief touches and fluttering eyelashes. Every day it got a little bit harder because Kurt was getting closer.

Every day Puck woke up with Kurt's smell on his clothes and soft cheek kisses. For now he was okay with sitting back in the feeling. Because every day the kiss got closer to the corner of his mouth and Kurt wore Puck scent too.

VII- Murmur

_Second Chances_

The grungy club reminded Kurt of the life he left behind in New York. Everyone there reeked of patchouli and dirty hemp. He was sandwiched between a short girl with pink hair and a six foot five guy that had a face full of metal and dreads half way down his back. This was the scene he's spent more than five years in. Being an A and R guy in New York meant practically living in these kinds of clubs. Finding artists that no other label would touch and turning them into the kind of stars the music industry needed to keep some of it's integrity.

When his company opened a LA office it was a given that he would be the one to relocate. He missed these kinds of places that were always filled with these kinds of people but he traded that life for a music scene that was being completely overlooked and summer all year long. He'd been in LA six months when he's stumbled across the demo of _Jackie Daniels_. They were a small queercore band that played all their own instruments, wrote their own songs and rocked harder that _Semi Precious Weapons_ and the _Scissor Sisters_ combined. In short, they were exactly what Kurt was looking for. In his line of work it was always hard to still be a fan of music but there was something in the lead singer's voice that made him stop thinking about how to market them and just listen.

None of the demos had any contact information or pictures of the band. They had all even adopted single names. Skylar, Jamie and Billie. All gender neutral names that gave him no clues about how to find them. But then he'd heard _The Murmurs_ were getting together for a reunion show and that _Jackie Daniels_ was going to be the opener.

The lights went down and the deep bass chords started. The curtain flew open and what Kurt saw on the other side made him freeze. Noah Puckerman in six inch boots, spandex leggings and no shirt. His eyes painted with bright pink eyeliner. Kurt watched the show with a mouth agape look of shock the entire time. Until Noah seemed to recognize him in the crowd and jumped down to the railing. Giving him a look that made Kurt's stomach flip and pulling him into a deep kiss.

As he listened to Puck sing about being in love with a boy from high school, he could help by think that moving to LA may have been the best thing that ever happened to him. Well that and, while licking his lips, wondering if Puck was actually wearing peach flavored lip gloss.


End file.
